Fallen leaves rustled outside the ancient green Victorian-styled house by a gust of wind as Percy landed on the sidewalk and shifted from a bat into his vampiric form.  He took a moment to straighten the SCPD (Sanguine City Police Department) badge woven into the shape of a bat pinned to his uniform before making his way up the driveway, where other bat cops had gathered with their forensic team.  

“What have we got?” Percy asked once he reached the front door, where his superior, Kieran Moonlark waited for him.

“Another poor vamp killed in his coffin.” Kieran handed him a pair of gloves before leading him through the foyer and upstairs to the master bedroom.  “Same as the last one.  The housekeeper found him.  We’ve already got her witness statement, but I figured we’d keep her here until you arrived on scene.  And yes.  We already took her fingerprints and a sample of her blood to compare against any we might find here.”

It smelled of sulfur and rotten bananas the moment Percy reached the bedroom door. He followed Kieran inside, casting a silent hex over his nostrils so the stench wouldn’t overwhelm his delicate senses too badly.  In the midst of the bedroom, a steel navy coffin had the top lid propped open.  Most vampires opted for traditional wood, but those who preferred more lavish bedding preferred steel for the extra precautions of keeping it secured in the morning.  Unfortunately, someone still managed to sneak in and pry it open.

Percy crouched down before the coffin to inspect the slashes to the victim’s neck.  Blood soaked through the white linens beneath him and the pillow he rested his head upon, matting in his short chestnut curls.  Much like their other victim, the vampire’s eyes were closed and his hands folded peacefully across his chest with that all too familiar white rose. Speckled in blood.  Almost like their killer was putting them to eternal rest.

“Pretty fanged up, isn’t it?” Percy asked.  “Our killer surprises them in the morning while they’re resting, likely deep in slumber by then, then poses them like this.  You think it’s a ritualistic thing, maybe?”

“Could be.” Kieran agreed.  “Maybe it’s remorse for taking their lives or a way they believe vampires can get into the heavens.  The white rose must have some sort of symbolic meaning.  If I had to guess, it must represent purity or even spiritual release.”

Percy cocked his head to the side with a deepening frown.  “White roses aren’t necessarily in season either right now.  Not unless they’re for a wedding.  I say we should check into the local flower shops and wedding boutiques to see who might’ve purchased a bouquet recently.”

“How do you know the roses aren’t homegrown by an earth wielder like yourself?” Kieran asked.

“Anyone who specializes in plant magic could tell you this rose here came from a shop by the way it’s been handled.  There’s no personal touch of magic emanating from it either because if so, we could’ve tested the lingering embers within the petals.  For our last case, I had our forensics test the other rose as well just to be certain.  No personal touch of magic from it.  Only the victim’s blood. Like this one,” Percy explained.

Much like their previous case, no signs of visible forced entry but they had their magical ward experts test all the doors and windows just to be certain.  Percy wasn’t expecting much to result from it either.  But that left him wondering how in the hells their killer sneaked past such potent magic.  Unless, was it possible their perpetrator had somehow granted previous access to their homes before the murders?  

Percy informed Kieran that he’d start looking for connections to both victims and if they had possibly been acquainted with one another before heading back outside.  

Moonlight blessed their lands with its soft muted glow and Percy lifted the hex from his nose to inhale the delightful fall air around him, savoring how crisp it smelled in the night.  He planned on checking into their victims' backgrounds back at the station, but before that, he intended on dropping by the local florist shops first. There was a chance that their killer recently purchased a bouquet of white roses because he doubted they simply bought two single white roses for the sake of committing two murders.

Deep within his slow-beating heart, Percy had a dreadful feeling that their killer had only truly started.

                                                                                          🦇

Lavender Blooms Flower Shop ended up being Percy’s last stop for the night.  A cozy little lilac nook nestled in the witch district of Sanguine City, its name curling across the storefront in cutesy cursive. An assortment of flowers greeted him at the entrance, their scent alone enough to remind him of home, of his mother’s old greenhouse. 

He’d crossed off every other in the vicinity and planned on seeking out shops beyond Sanguine City, but he knew many witches florists and vampires alike would be locking their doors for the morning.

“Welcome to Lavender Blooms. How can I help you tonight, sir?” A florist with short curly green locks greeted him. The nametag pinned to her apron spelled out Jasmine in flowery letters.

“Percy Ashmidia with the Sanguine City Police Department." He flashed her his credentials, then tucked it back into his pocket.  “I was hoping you could tell me if you had any recent purchases for white roses this past week.  Any receipts you have would be very helpful for our investigation.”

“Investigation?” The young woman worried her lip, casting an anxious glimpse around the shop.  “Am I in some sort of trouble if we sold them here? ”

“No, not at all,” Percy reassured her.  “I’m only hoping to trace these flowers back to a suspect we’re looking into.  It would be a great help to me actually if you happened to sell them to someone recently.”

“Okay, sure. Please, wait right there.  I’ll go through our inventory for the past week and see what I can find on white roses.  I believe I recall a young man who purchased wedding flowers a few days ago, but I don’t quite remember his name.”

“You did?” Percy raised a brow as he stepped further into the shop.  “If it’s no bother, I could help you look through your receipts. I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

“No, please.  Wait there.” The young florist trembled as she reached for her wand, eyes widened like a frightened baby deer.  Radiant forest green embers swept protectively around her frame as Percy backed up with his hands held high in surrender.

Sometimes, he forgot how much witchkind despised him, feared him.  It would do no good to tell her he didn’t even fancy women or their blood because it was far too sweet and rich for his liking.  Every vampire had their preferences of course, and some, didn’t quite care where they got their blood sourced from.  

So, Percy waited patiently in the middle of her shop while she stepped away into the back for those receipts.  Honestly, the longer it took, the more Percy considered the possibility she had fled out some secret back door, but he kept his ears perked the entire time and heard no sound of a door opening or closing.  Perhaps she was clever enough to magically conceal the sound of it.

“Found it.” The florist reappeared, much to Percy’s surprise, holding a slip of paper.  “Unfortunately, he paid cash but he gave the name Simon for a pickup of twelve white wedding roses.  Not sure how helpful that is.  He bought them on Weydonday.”

The day just before the first murder.

“Thank you.” Percy accepted the receipt from her.  “You don’t know how helpful this is.  I appreciate it.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The florist forced a smile.  “If you don’t mind, I really need to close up shop now.  Morning curfew, as you know.  Don’t wish to be arrested for being out beyond the witching hours.”

Percy nodded.  “Of course.”

That witch florist did little to hide how badly she wished to kick his sorry fangs out onto the sidewalk.  At the very least, he finally had something concrete to go on when it came to their killer.  Simon could’ve been an alias or even a friend’s name he supplied.  At the very least, he knew for certain it was a man responsible.  

Once he reached the end of the street, Percy prepared to shift into a bat and soar up into the night sky, only to stumble on his feet when a powerful gust of magical-tinted air nearly knocked him on his arse.  It smelled of sulfuric winterberry, enough that it rendered him still long enough for a shadowy figure in a black cloak to rush past him.  He barely saw the mask, blinking a few times to ensure he wasn’t imagining the eerie dragon face the man wore before a very human-like hand drove a dagger right through his chest. 

There wasn't even enough time to conjure up a defensive spell as he bared his fangs in pure agony.  At the pain that seared through his very being. The silver dagger protruded from his chest, only centimeters away from his heart.  Percy reached down to yank it out, only to be met with magical resistance and an excruciating burning to the skin of his fingers that made him cry out.  

His knees buckled beneath him, panic welling in his throat at the sensation of silver eating away at his flesh from the inside.  Burning him within.  

Percy couldn’t die.  Not now. Not when he was closer to finding out their killer’s true identity.  

The receipt slipped from his fingers, abandoned somewhere on the sidewalk as he forced his trembling legs to carry him across the street, down buildings of darkened shops with closed signs that refused to acknowledge his pleas for help. No witch or wizard dared to help a desperate vampire in need, not when they feared he’d lash out from lack of blood.  

Percy wondered if he was truly going to die right there on the street until he spotted a witch-run clinic ahead.  Magical energy died on the tips of his bruised fingers as he reached for the door, his last hope of survival as the world around him flickered in a haze so unclear it felt like someone had submerged him underwater.

Little did he realize, his attacker had slipped a white rose into his pocket, its petals crushed by the weight of his fall as darkness engulfed his vision.